Monster
by Nightscrawlearth
Summary: What will be unleashed for the final showdown with Apocalypse? AU. For Nightscrawlearth. By Tears Fall Like Glass
1. Chapter 1

Rachel had eventually sprawled across the bed, sketchbook open in front of her and headphones in her ears. She'd settled for using a pen because that's what was sitting on the nightstand. She couldn't be bothered with looking for any other utensil, as she was eager to get started on something and lose herself in the work for a bit. As much as she'd hoped to do so, her focus hadn't lasted. She capped the pen with a frown, briefly resting her head in her arms.

Deciding the smell of ink wasn't a pleasant thing to breathe in, Rachel lifted her face from her arms, restlessly tapping the pen against the pad instead. She felt exhausted. Between the worrying and irritability, she hadn't been sleeping extremely well. Not only that, but constant worry and irritability was exhausting.

It was likely better if she didn't think about that. It'd just lead to the things she was attempting to avoid thinking about. Rachel dropped her gaze to the paper, frown deepening. She really needed to start planning things ahead of time if this was how doodling was bound to end up.

Since she'd gotten her hands on a sketchbook after coming out of her coma, she'd managed to consistently draw one thing. It was creepy and slightly irritating. It was also something she'd been careful to avoid mentioning to anyone. There was absolutely no desire or patience in her to deal with someone questioning why she had numerous sketches of the bird.

In all honesty, they made her feel uneasy, especially this one. It felt like its eyes were boring into her. Despite its fiery appearance, there wasn't any warmth in them. It was like having a monster staring back at her.

Rachel suppressed a shudder and flipped the sketchbook off the bed, tossing the pen after it before rolling onto her back. They also made her feel like she was missing some piece of the puzzle, which was frustrating. Frustration was bad, considering the issues she'd been having with her powers.

Those were something else she'd been careful to gloss over. While Bobby knew about it, she hadn't quite let him in on the extent of the issues. It was a small source of guilt, which she supposed was what happened when you lied to your best friend. She just couldn't bring herself to talk about it because he'd likely think she was insane. She sure as hell thought she was.

Blowing out a sigh, she pulled the headphones from her ears and swung her legs over the side of the bed, moving to get up. She returned to pacing. She felt like she should be doing something…

_Kill them all._

"Yeah… No…" Rachel muttered, seeing as that definitely wasn't what she thought she should be doing. She vaguely noted that she was talking to herself again but didn't make much of it. It was a regular occurrence at this point.

_Find him, and kill them all._

The clarification made her pause. She supposed she may be able to handle that…


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel had used her telekinesis to protect herself from the collapsing Hellfire Club and attempted to follow Nur. Considering he'd taken everything she'd thrown at him, she supposed she should hardly be surprised that he got out as easily as she had. She spared a glance back to the pile of rubble before looking around. The area looked clear enough, but sirens were ringing out in the distance. There wasn't a lot of time.

Looking down at herself, Rachel realized she probably shouldn't wander in this form as she started to move away from where the club had been.

_Why not?_

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she muttered under her breath, "What do you mean 'why not'?"

She definitely didn't have time for stupid questions like this, especially not when she was supposed to be plotting someone's murder. She was essentially a walking shadow on fire. There was no way people wouldn't notice her and flip out.

_They won't if you don't want them to._

Rachel ducked into an alley and leaned back against one of the walls. The texture of the bricks caught the fabric of her dress as she slid to sit, reminding her that she really wasn't appropriately dressed - not for hunting murderers down nor sitting in dirty alleyways. She didn't give her clothing or cleanliness much more thought, deciding to puzzle out what she'd just been told. However, she was having issues with that. Now that she was out of imminent danger, she felt dazed, her mind attempting to catch up with everything that had just happened.

_Focus_, the voice instructed.

"Focus," Rachel breathed, a look of confusion taking over her features as the fire and darkness receded. What was she supposed to be focusing on? Josh was dead.

Not that.

"Shut up," she ordered as she drew her legs up to her chest, resting her forehead against her knees and squeezing her eyes shut.

There had been so much blood - a small pool surrounding his lifeless form, gleaming in the light along with his golden skin. Her stomach turned as the memory played out in her mind again. Rushing to uncurl, Rachel twisted to the side, barely missing her lap as she lost the contents of her stomach.

Rachel drew in a shuddering breath and scrambled to scoot over a bit, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. He was dead. Actually dead. She was… shaking. Badly. Still nauseous.

Right. The thing… The voice whispering in her head… It'd been right. She shouldn't focus on that. If she focused on that, she wouldn't move. She'd lay on the dirty pavement, cry, and probably end up sick again. Plus, she'd lose Nur. Well, even more so than she already had. There was also the possibility of being caught before she had the chance to finish him.

Pushing down the lump in her throat, Rachel tensed as she actually tuned into what was going on around her. Her face twisted as her mind was flooded with thoughts. Gawkers despite the time of night, reporters, emergency crews, law enforcement, and S.H.I.E.L.D were all just around the corner.

The voice rang clear in her head, despite the fact that it was little more than a whisper, forcing all the other thoughts into the background, making them little more than white noise, Move. No witnesses.

Rachel dumbly nodded as she worked to collect herself. She grasped at the bricks in an attempt to pull herself to her feet, realization dawning on her. She could make anyone think they were seeing whatever the hell she wanted. That's what it'd been getting at.

As she made her way back toward the opening of the alley, she managed a bitter smile. It was time to start taking the voice in her head far more seriously.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel leaned back in her seat from her spot on the balcony. It was chilly but not raining for once. Her gaze swept over the river and along the buildings on the horizon.

London.

The weather hadn't been complete shit the last time she'd been to the city.

Rachel managed a mirthless smile at the thought and dropped her gaze to the glass in her hand, downing the shot with a slight shake of her head. A dead body wasn't ten feet away, and she was lamenting the weather. She poured another shot. After a few more, it shouldn't bother her overly much.

Plus, it wasn't like she'd picked the city. After all, she was just following Nur. Apocalypse, even. Her face twisted in disgust at the thought of him, and she drank the shot she'd just poured. Maybe she'd fare better drunk since she hadn't done shit to him sober.

Rachel dragged her gaze from the skyline, tilting her head to look over her shoulder and automatically swallowing.

There had been… There was blood. A lot of it. Part of her pitied whoever had to clean the carpet as her stomach churned at the sight.

Another shot.

It wasn't like she was a stranger to blood. Not only did she have her… old issues, but she had dealt with the stuff for a few years working in the tattoo parlor. She'd never felt squeamish about it before, but….

There had been… The vacant expression… Hollow stare… Gold glinting, reflected in the…

The clinking of glass skittering across the ground cut through her thoughts, and her stare became focused. She quickly diverted her gaze, searching for the source of the noise. The shot glass. She'd tossed it, and it'd shattered against the surface of the balcony.

Rachel failed to hold her in a shuddering breath as she shakily got to her feet. She turned her gaze back to the skyline and tried a calming breath, steeling herself against everything. She reached out with her mind, easily picking up the location of Nur again. He hadn't strayed far from his previous location. Yet.

Turning on her heel, she took a long pull off the bottle before dropping it next to the body as she stepped over it. She needed a smoke, and God help whoever stood between it and her. After that, she'd work on finishing this job.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel's head fell against the cool tile with a dull thud. After a moment, she repeated the motion. Once more. Well, maybe one more time. After that last time, she was fairly certain she was done beating her head against the wall and simply rested her forehead against the surface. After all, continuing wasn't going to serve her well in the long run.

Fucking X-men, fucking Apocalypse…

She raised a fist and gave the wall a weak punch, hissing through her clenched teeth at the pain.

Wrong arm to use for that… Fucking Darren.

It was far from the first time she'd cursed him since she'd fled England. She was sure it wouldn't be the last as she moved through France.

Her shoulder ached and felt stiff, as she'd limited the movement of that arm due to the puncture. The warm water of the shower against the wound stung, but she was reluctant to move out from under the spray.

What the fuck had she been thinking? In what fucking world was it a good idea to piss off the fucking X-men? If she had to take a guess, the answer would be none, judging from how badly she hurt now. Beside her shoulder, she had some nice bruising from where Ankka had tackled and Mayday had punched her.

On the other hand, there was no way she was worse off than them, though the thought didn't bring her much comfort. She'd just turned on her friends. Her family, even... without a second thought at the time. Now, her stomach was turning at the thought of Fabian's head cracking against the pavement, May sliding across it, and some of the memories she'd pulled to the forefront of Ankka's mind. She reached up to scrub at her face with the hand of her good arm, slicking some water off her hair before wrapping her arm around her midsection.

Maybe she was the monster Nur had made her to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Having left Bobby at a nearby McDonald's, confident in his ability to handle himself, Rachel trudged down the sidewalk through the sludge that, amazingly, had been snow at one point in time. It was the dirty remains of what had been pushed off the streets. Despite the weather, there was still shouting up and down the block as well as sirens and dogs barking in the distance. The smell of pot was drifting around, aroma stronger in some spots than others, and she almost wished she had a joint because she'd be far less tense.

Removing the cigarette from between her lips, Rachel breathed out smoke and eyed it as it curled through the evening air. She flicked the butt into the slush with all the others and stuffed her hands in her pockets, keeping her head down.

Even though she'd been between Westchester and Manhattan for the past eight years and considered her friends at school family, the Bronx was always going to be home. Walking down the familiar streets, cigarette in hand, head down with her hood up - It all felt natural, if not a bit nostalgic.

She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been home to see her father (she generally invited him to her place), but it couldn't have been long after she was married. At the thought of her wedding, she frowned and shook another cigarette from the pack, quickly lighting up.

Opening the gate, Rachel stepped into the yard and cringed at the creaking as she closed it, glancing around before moving toward the front door. After knocking, she took a long drag and flicked some of the ash from the tip while she waited.

Suddenly, she was being pulled into a hug before she'd even processed the door had opened, letting out a mouthful of smoke from being squeezed tightly. Before she could even relax into the hug, she was back to being held at arms length and receiving a critical look. Then, the cigarette plucked from her fingers and stubbed out.

Rachel gave her father a flat look as she stepped inside, pushed the hood from her head, and fussed over her hair.

"I thought you quit." She had before she left for school.

Those weren't exactly the first words she imagined hearing when she'd decided to show up for a visit, but at least it wasn't unfamiliar territory. Plus, it meant she could dance around the topic leading to the visit for a bit. She replied easily, "Me too."

"They're bad for your health."

"I know…" Rachel muttered as she glanced around the tiny entry. She'd forgotten how small this house was. Her apartment had been bigger. Far bigger, actually. The house would probably fit in it. Not that she really had the apartment anymore. It was a slightly depressing thought because Ben had left it to her, but she couldn't live there alone. Well, or now that she was required to have a babysitter.

"But you don't care," Brian filled in as she trailed off, ushering her to the kitchen table and making a gesture toward the fridge.

"Not at the moment," she answered as she dropped into one of the chairs, making a slight face as the chair protested. She gave it a wary look before hesitantly leaning back. "Beer."

"Or at any moment," he replied pointedly, unsurprised by the roll of her eyes for the comment as he handed her the drink. Grabbing one for himself, Brian moved to lean against the counter as he twisted the top off, watching her. She'd set the bottle on the table and was turning the cap over in her fingers, focusing entirely on it. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of her turning up on the doorstep and took a contemplative sip.

Rachel paused in her fidgeting, swapping the cap out for the beer. As the silence stretched on, she finally found herself taking a drink. Her nose wrinkled at the taste, and she forced herself to swallow. Right. That was what cheap beer tasted like.

Brian sighed. The disgusted look was the most expressive she'd been thus far. Her whole attitude had flipped since the last time he'd seen her. The last time he'd seen her like this had been when… "Are you and Josh having problems?"

The last time had been when Josh broke up with her. She'd come home from school a wreck, in the middle of the semester, before settling into a routine filled with brooding, video games, and junk food comas.

Plus, with her prison stint, he could see where there would be some issues.

Rachel's mouth had opened, closed, and now her jaw was working. She let her head fall back to the top of the chair and stared up at the ceiling, swallowing. Setting her beer back on the table, she pushed her fingers through her hair and slowly shook her head.

"You can tell m-"

"Josh is dead," Rachel abruptly stated, tone sharper than she'd intended. Gaze dropping to the grimy-looking linoleum floor, just past her shoes, she took a breath to regain a bit of composure and repeated softly, "He's dead."

It never seemed to get easier to say. There was always indescribable pain at the thought of even speaking the words, causing her to hesitate or pause to collect herself. Then, it always sounded broken, bitter or, in this case, both. Without looking up, she hunched over, elbows on her knees, and reached for her drink once more, letting the bottle hang loosely in her fingers as the familiar, overwhelming emptiness washed over her. It always came after admitting he was actually gone, and it always felt worse than the pain.

At the sound of the chair scraping across the floor, Rachel brought the bottle to her lips and took a long drink in preparation for the next question. A ghostly whisper in her mind told her what he was going to say long before he actually gave his stunned response of, "H-how?"

She gritted her teeth as the memory surfaced - contrasting gold and crimson with a dead stare. As she took another drink, she vaguely noted that she was going to need another beer at this rate, answering after a moment, "Murdered."

Draining the rest of her beer at her father's sharp exhale, Rachel stiffly rose to retrieve another from the fridge after placing the empty bottle on the counter, not particularly caring about the quality of the drink now. She tossed the cap to join the other on the table, deciding there wasn't avoiding the subject any longer.

Instead of returning to her seat, she perched on the small patch of counter between the fridge and stove, resting her head against the cabinets as she focused on the blinds skewing her view of the street outside. After another gulp, she placed the bottle on the countertop next to her leg, making a mental note to avoid spilling it everywhere as she sighed.

"I was arrested for… Well, a lot of things," Rachel started, pausing to worry her lip as she actually debated phrasing.

Brian had been staring down at the table and attempting to process the news she'd just dropped on him. While he hadn't been entirely approving, especially at first, Josh hadn't been a bad kid and was much better than who she could've ended up with. More importantly, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen Rachel as happy as she had been when he was around.

Looking over to his daughter as she spoke, things - the smoking, her attitude - began to fall into place. As she stared off into the distance, he gave her another critical look, taking in her appearance. He knew she wasn't exactly a stranger to death, given the fact she'd lost a lot of people from the usual going-ons in the neighborhood and her own attempts on her life, but she'd almost always insisted she was fine.

It didn't look like she was putting much effort into maintaining her usual front. If she was, it wasn't holding, despite her stubbornness. The dark circles under her eyes made her look overly exhausted, standing out against the bright green of her irises and making it difficult to disguise the pain she had to be feeling. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat, and she was still anxiously gnawing at her lip. Rachel had always been scarily thin and fair-skinned, though relatively healthy, but she somehow managed to look skinnier and pale.

It was hard to see her falling apart and knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it. He could be there for her, listen to her like he was now, but it wasn't going to take her pain away nor did it mean she'd pull herself together.

While going over the events leading up to her arrest and her time in S.H.I.E.L.D custody, the number of bottle caps on the table had multiplied, and the halos of light given off from the street lamps had grown brighter as the sky had darkened, the one across the street flickering as it always had. Despite having glossed over a number of details, guilt and anxiety had settled in the pit of her stomach, but she also felt extremely relieved as she finished. It, hopefully, meant she could stop stuttering like an idiot.

Finally pulling her gaze from the window, Rachel drained what little beer was left in the bottle in her hand and stared down at the floor for a moment. She placed the bottle with the small group next to her before hopping down from the countertop, swaying slightly. She went about stiffly gathering the bottles to rinse and throw away. While her father had patiently absorbed the information, she wasn't exactly sure how he was going to react, even with her telepathy.

Brian wasn't even completely sure what to say or do as she moved the short distance across the kitchen. The entire thing was disconcerting, as it was hard to imagine his little girl being capable of murdering people. Plus, he wasn't sure what it said about his parenting skills, but he was only half at fault there. As uncomfortable as it was, he decided the crime spree wasn't the part to focus on over another sip from his bottle. It was over and done with. There was nothing to be done about it.

He vaguely noted he was well behind her in drinks as he set his back on the table, looking over to her and asking, "How are you holding up?"

The question caught her off-guard, having not been one she expected, and she fumbled a bottle. Luckily, she caught it her telekinetic grasp before it shattered against the floor and let out a sigh of relief. In answer to the question, Rachel shrugged, admitting quietly, "I don't know."

Brian simply nodded and waited to see if she'd elaborate, the conversation lapsing into silence when she didn't. He decided not to press the issue of how she felt and wracked his brain for something else to discuss. "Have you spoken to your mother?"

It wasn't the best topic to settle on. For either of them, really. Her mother and him had never communicated well while they were married, but she'd had the courtesy of calling him when their daughter started appearing in the news. The least he could do was update her on the situation in return, however he hoped Rachel had. It would spare him an awkward conversation.

Judging from the look she was already giving him, he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Rachel had pulled another drink from the fridge at the question and closed the door a bit more forcibly than intended at the question, turning to face her father with a scowl as she tossed the cap to her small collection on the table. "Why would I?"

"Because…" Brian started, pausing to fish for a reason but lamely finishing, "She's your mother?"

There was a typical roll of her eyes that made him feel a bit more relaxed. It was nice to know she still reacted normally to some things.

"So?" she scoffed. While she had far from the worst family life, it hadn't exactly been ideal and was still a point of contention.

"So she worries about you," he answered, reaching for his beer for a long drink. As nice as a normal conversation was, Brian wished she wasn't so stubborn when it came to her mother.

Rachel rolled her eyes once more as she took a sip herself, barely resisting the urge to tell him where her mother could cram that worrying. She also had a few other choice responses but managed to keep them contained by taking another long gulp. She eventually muttered, shaking her head, "Out of obligation."

"Right…" Brian decided to cut the argument short to spare himself the headache and her the irritation, "I'll just tell her you're out."

"For all I care, you can tell her I'm still wasting away in prison and will be for the rest of my life," she replied coldly. The last time she had seen or spoken to her mother had definitely been when she'd announced to her parents that she'd eloped with Josh. That was just over four years ago, and she wasn't about to break that winning record.

Rachel deflated, gaze dropping to the bottle in her hand. Leaning back against the fridge, she let out a sigh. Four years sounded like a long time, but it really wasn't. Well, with everything, it was more like three. Regardless, it wasn't anywhere near enough time with Josh.

At her mood shift, Brian drained what was left in his bottle, got up, and pulled her into a tight hug. He hadn't particularly expected her to cling to him nor did he expect the stifled sob. Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he let out a sigh, simply letting her cry. It'd be good for her to get it out, especially since she was prone to bottling it all.

She was nowhere near the monster the media was making her out to be.


End file.
